


The Exchange

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gender neutral reader (no pronouns or genitals specified!), Knotting, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: Each week you ask your patron Arcana for power, money, affection, or whatever your heart so desires. He is more than happy to provide and care for you, in exchange for your sweet sighs and screams as you take his cock





	The Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon request on my Tumblr (@vesuviannights).

The Hierophant has been your patron Arcana for as long as you can remember, always aiding and answering you in your quest for growth and knowledge and yes, even power, and though he was not the most powerful of the Major Arcana himself, you had yet to be displeased with his services.

Especially those services that required you to be on your knees and begging for him, the moments-turned-hours where he wanted your loyalty to be a tangible thing he could hear and feel and see. You—cheek pressed to the ground, your hips in the air, thighs quivering with your arousal—could do nothing more to prove your loyalty than be exactly as you were, submitting to him, begging for him, waiting to be used as his cocksleeve whenever he so pleased.

With a soft groan, the Hierophant pulls his cock from you, and you barely swallow back a whimper at the loss. He doesn’t like it when you complain, or when you want more than he is already giving you—the power, the guidance, the love and adoration and promises that he will never abandon you in your times of need—and so you don’t. You—on your knees, empty after spending so long being filled with his cock—must wait for what you are to be given, what your mind and body and soul so desperately crave.

“Are you ready to take my knot?” He croons to you while dragging the head of his cock along your achingly empty hole. When your hips jerk and grind back into him, he tuts quietly at your impatience, but keeps speaking as though you hadn’t displeased him. “You know I would never ask or demand it of you, that I would never want to ruin you in such a way, but you’ve been so greedy this week, asking for so much from me. How else am I meant to take what you owe?”

You nod into the sheets of your bed, cheeks damp with your silent tears. You are so desperate to come, so desperate for his cock, that all of the things you have indeed asked for this week—the power, the guidance, the affection—are almost absent from your mind, distant memories that will soon become forever buried in the haze of your pleasure.

His hand connects with the swell of your ass with a loud _crack_, followed a moment later by the sting of the long claw marks left there by his nails. You hiss and curse, hurriedly forcing out the response he is already impatient for. You’re not sure exactly what you say, but it must be pleasing enough, because he hums quietly and presses the head of his cock a little harder against your hole.

“Then I will give it to you, and in exchange for taking it I will also give you all that you desire. Are you ready to be so full of my seed that your stomach will swell?”

You have seen his knot. It is so huge, so impossibly large, the size of your fist. You always felt it whenever he fucked you, and maybe—in your babbling, in your cross-eyed haze of lust— you had even begged for it, but he had never pushed it into you. He has never made you take it, always fucked you until you were screaming yourself hoarse and then had somehow found his own pleasure without locking you to him.

But today he will. Today, he will fuck you in the most primal of ways, with his claws and feral growls, stretching you and filling you and locking you onto him so that you can’t escape.

Just like you had asked for.

Affection. Promises of eternal love. If you allow him this one thing, you will be his forever, and you will never want for anything again in your existence, however long he should choose to make it.

“_Yes_,” you whisper into the sheets, and then turning your head, a little louder, “Yes! _Please_ knot me, claim me, mark me—I’m yours, only yours!”

He chuckles, the sound low and almost endearing as he smooths a vaguely human hand down your back.

“What a good pet,” he murmurs. You feel him press a kiss to your shoulder blade a moment later. “It won’t hurt, that I will make sure of. Do you trust me?”

You swallow, you shiver, and then you nod.

And then he pushes into you.

At first it is just his cock, the smooth head and its glorious length, a size and swell you are used to. You arch your back, shaking with your restraint, trying not to push back, trying to wait for him to come to you.

But you are greedy, and so desperate, and you want more, you want all of him, all at once, and you whimper and sob and keen with every inch that enters you in hopes he will take pity and move faster.

And then his knot is pressing against you, hard and pulsing and too large, much too large. You must start whimpering, or crying, or begging, or _something_, because he is soothing you, his words floating to you in the air and in your mind, promising you it will feel so good, he will be so gentle, nothing will ever hurt you so long as he is there to protect you.

When he begins to sink in, stretch you, you let out a loud cry, one that echoes throughout the room, throughout the realm he has brought you to. Your hands grapple out for something to latch onto, finding only the sheets and air, nothing to pull yourself away or push yourself back with.

“_Yes_, that’s it, that’s it my pet—” He releases a guttural groan that is almost drowned out completely by your pathetic sob as his knot swells to its largest and is sucked inside of you with a soft _pop_, your greedy body demanding to be filled.

He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, fucking you with long and hard strokes that send you cross-eyed and reeling with bliss. His knot stretches you, presses into every sensitive spot inside of you without an ounce of pain, just like he promised—only bliss, and the additional promise of your sixth orgasm, clawing at your insides and begging to be let out.

“Go on, pet,” he croons, dragging his long nails through your hair, brushing your scalp, soothing you in your tiny little whimpers and moans. “Come for me. Squeeze your tight little hole around my knot and I’ll give you what you so desperately wanted this week.”

As he speaks, you feel his magic release its hold on your body, and it only takes a few moments of his hard thrusts to have you coming undone, your cries cracking in your throat, turning hoarse as you squeeze around him, his knot pressing into every perfect spot.

And then with a hiss, he is spilling inside of you, ignoring you as you collapse onto your stomach—shaking, lashes fluttering on your cheeks, your soft little moans the only signs of life—and clawing at the sheets by your head as he thrusts and thrusts and fills your greedy hole.

You groan softly as your stomach swells, so full of his seed—so much, almost too much—and his cock and his knot, pushed down into the mattress as he pins you there, keeping you locked to him. You reach out, hand curling around his wrist, silently begging, but you don’t know what for.

But he does. He always knows, he always sees, he always gives you exactly what you need to be happy.

“You did well, my pet,” he tells you, with a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.

Then, so gently, he takes you by your hips and rolls you both onto your sides, his cock still locked inside of you. You murmur as even that gently movement stirs your stomach, and a moment later his hand is there, stroking and soothing the ache of the stretch and the swell.

“Are you pleased?” He asks you. You nod. “Then so am I, and consider this our deal for the week.”

A now-familiar sensation overcomes your body, a trickle that starts where his lips are pressed into the crown of your head, making its way in cool little shivers and rivulets down your neck, your shoulders, your back. It envelopes every muscle and nerve in your body, setting them alight, and you arch against him with a happy little murmur as the power he has gifted you finally settles in your heart, waiting to be used for whatever whims you will fill that week.

“Is that enough?” He questions.

“Never,” you sigh.

He lets out a huff of air you know would be a laugh, if he would permit himself to do so.

“My magician,” he tuts. “Always so greedy for more. But if I give you more, who is to say you will keep coming back? Perhaps you will bore of me.”

“Is that worry I hear in your voice, my dear hierophant?”

“Only in your dreams.”

He locks an arm around your middle, setting you back against his chest so that he can pull his fingers through your hair. When you release a content little sigh, you feel his cock twitch inside of you, though his voice shows no signs of strain when he speaks again.

“Now hush,” he murmurs into your temple. “And let my power seat itself inside of you properly. If you’re good, perhaps we can enjoy ourselves again before you return to the mortal realm.”

Nodding, you obey his wishes. You would very, very much enjoy another round—or perhaps one day, to stay here for eternity.


End file.
